


Be Fruitful And

by cathybites



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathybites/pseuds/cathybites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/stop_drop_porn/">stop_drop_porn</a>, prompt of 'fuck or die'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Fruitful And

The thing is ugly, butt-fuckin'-ugly. Squat and hideous and is that--

"Fraser! What is this thing on my desk?" Ray squints at it, then pokes it with a pencil. It looks like some kind of demented dwarf, or a satanic gnome, laughing and leering while its chubby hands hold up its gigantic--

"Fraser! FRASER!"

"Yes, Ray?" comes Fraser's voice, right behind him, and Ray yelps before spinning around, glaring at his partner. _Need to put a fucking bell on him or something_ , Ray thinks, which leads to thoughts of a collar, and Fraser in a collar, and...Ray points at his desk.

"That! What is that thing?"

Dief rears up to nose at it as Fraser bends over to take a closer look, and Ray is nearly knocked flat when he leans over, too, and Fraser pops right back up, looking as ramrod straight as a Mountie can. His face is quickly turning an interesting shade of red, and Ray huffs at that, lip quirking up as Fraser pulls the old thumb-on-eyebrow trick. He glances down at Dief, who snorts and shakes his head before trotting off to wherever it is wolves go in this city.

"Well," Fraser begins, voice cracking slightly - Ray smiles at that, too - "I can't be certain, but if I had to make an educated guess, I would say it's a representation of a fertility god."

Ray frowns, looking back at the thing. It's made of some kind of dark and shiny material - maybe wood, maybe stone. Ray can't say for sure. "Fertility god, huh? So this is somebody's idea of a joke?" Hardee-fucking-har. He picks it up, contemplates throwing it at Dewey's head - because he _had_ to have been the one to leave it - and then nearly drops it when he realizes how warm it is. Warm and...vibrating.

"Hey, Fraser, this thing is vibrating." The vibrations and warmth seem to roll off the figurine, coming off it in waves that sink right into Ray's hand, slither up his arm, and slide right down his spine, curling up at the base in a tight, hot coil.

Blinking, Ray takes a closer look at the fertility whathaveyou; he swears the thing just winked at him.

Fraser doesn't take notice, just gets that concerned look on his face as he leans in for a better look and, oh. _Oh_. God, Fraser smells good. Like hickory smoke and apple pie and every fantasy that Ray has had since he discovered his dick's not just for pissing, and, okay. Maybe that doesn't make sense, but it's not like Ray can think all that clearly, not when Fraser's _scent_ is making all the blood flee his brain and take up residence below his belt.

"Do you mind, Ray?" Fraser says, and before Ray can answer, Fraser's taking the little statue from him, holding it up to the light to examine it.

Ray doesn't know how, but he can _sense_ when the heat hits Fraser. Maybe it's the sweat that breaks out across his forehead, or the slight tremble in his hands...or the way he looks at Ray, eyes nearly black, and licks his lower lip, and. _Fuck._ Ray's heart is pounding like a steel drum band in his chest, faster and faster, and he knows - he _knows_ \- if he doesn't get his hands on Fraser's skin right this second, it's going to bust right out of his chest.

He takes a step closer just as his phone rings, and he's suddenly very aware that they're in the middle of the bullpen, and Ray was _thisclose_ to grabbing Fraser and bending him over his desk and _FUCK_. He presses the heel of his hand to his forehead, then to his dick, which is the hardest it's ever been in Ray's entire life.

It doesn't seem like Fraser is in much better shape, not with the way he's eyeing where Ray's hand is now rubbing against his crotch, just like Ray's imagined in about a hundred different jerk-off fantasies. Ray looks around quickly, noticing the few odd looks they're getting - he scowls at Dewey, who just smirks and goes back to his paperwork - and grabs a hold of Fraser's arm, pulling him along as he bolts out of the room.

Fraser says something - in protest, in agreement, in Greek, Ray doesn't know, doesn't care. Not when his skin is pulling tight all over his body and his insides are on fire and the only relief he feels is where he's got a death grip on Fraser's wrist. Finally - _finally_ \- Ray just throws open the supply closet, snarls "Out!" at the startled woman holding a box of pens, and shoves past her, dragging Fraser in with him.

"Ray--" is all Fraser gets out because Ray kicks the door closed and shoves him against it and, thank _Christ_ , gets his mouth on Fraser's. It's better than he's imagined, especially once Fraser groans and opens up and kisses him back, his tongue slicking over Ray's lips before pushing into his mouth. The heat that has been building in Ray tamps down a little, Fraser's mouth bringing cool relief, but it starts smoldering again in no time, and Ray growls and fumbles at Fraser's trousers.

"Get these...how the hell...Fraser, c'mon," Ray pants, reduced to tugging at the waistband and humping against the thigh Fraser's worked between his legs. Then Fraser's hands are bumping into his, unfastening and loosening and shoving, and Ray reaches in, wraps his hand around Fraser's cock and, _god_ , this is it, this is right, this is exactly what he needs, right now, right this second, before he just keels over and _dies_.

His own pants somehow end up around his knees and he pushes up into his fist, right next to Fraser's dick, and it's rough and dry, but Ray can't stop pumping and pulling and twisting his hand around the both of them, especially not when Fraser's breathing hot and damp against his neck, moaning and begging _please, Ray, please_ , arms around Ray's shoulders like he's clinging for dear life. There's a hand scrabbling at the back of his head, fingers scratching in time to Ray's pulls, and Fraser's other hand is fisted in the back of Ray's shirt and, _shit_ , Ray can feel the statue still in Fraser's hand, can feel it throbbing against his spine faster and faster and--

He has no idea who comes first; one second Ray's getting burns on his palm from how fast and hard he's jerking them off, the next he's got a handful of jizz, slick and warm as he wrings the last drops out of his cock and Fraser's. Shuddering with how good and intense and, _fuck_ , how crazy this whole thing is - _the fucking supply closet?_ , he thinks - Ray drops his head forward, resting it against Fraser's shoulder. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out other than a low moan.

He can hear Fraser swallowing, taking a deep breath, then, "Ray? This is...ah, that is to say, I believe, ah..."

Ray just nods, the wool of Fraser's coat scratching against his forehead. Fraser's arms are still around him, the hand holding the ugly little fucker still pressed against his back, and, damn. The thing is still radiating heat, and Ray feels the now-familiar slinking warmth working through him. His head jerks up and he finds Fraser staring at him, as wide-eyed as Ray feels. His dick twitches - once, then twice - and, holy _shit_ , starts to get hard again. He feels Fraser's dick perk up, brush up against his, and, oh god, he's on fire all over again.

Then Fraser licks his lips and says, "Ray, take me home," and Ray realizes that he had _no idea_ what being turned on meant before.

Three hours, five orgasms, and one pleasantly sore ass later, Ray flops back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Fraser lies next to him, sucking in air like a racehorse, and Ray thinks that he may finally be fucked out. Christ, if he ever gets it up again, he'll be amazed. His eyes flick over to the window, where Fraser had set the fat little fuck before throwing Ray onto the bed. "Fertility god?" he says, the words barely rasped out, seeing as he came close to blowing his voice out with all the 'Harder, Fraser, fuck me harder!' he'd been doing earlier.

He can feel the blush coming off Fraser, and he smirks when Fraser clears his throat and says, "It's only a guess, Ray, but considering the figure's, ah, proportions and the...the effect it had on us, I would surmise that it's some sort of religious artifact, used in fertility rituals in order to induce...ah, well."

"The need to bonk like bunnies or die?"

"Well, that is one way of putting it," and Ray glances at Fraser, who's smiling at him, looking flushed and exhausted, but happy. Ray hadn't even realized that he'd had any tension left in him until he gets a look at Fraser looking like that, like in spite of them getting freaky thanks to some statue, this is something Fraser wants. Had wanted, maybe as long as Ray.

Everything eases inside of him, just releases and lets go, and he grins back, absolutely not thinking about how stretched out his mouth feels at the moment. Then he thinks about it all a little more, and an unwelcome thought pops in his head. "So, wait. This thing, if it was used in, whachacallit, fertility rituals, does that mean that, y'know..." Ray flaps his hand between the two of them, hoping that and the raised eyebrows get his point across.

Fraser's brow creases for a moment, then he blanches before blinking and shaking his head. "No, no, Ray, I don't think...that is, I'm quite certain it's only use was to set the mood, so to speak. I highly doubt that it had any other use. That would be very improbable."

'Quite certain.' 'Highly doubt.' Ray isn't sure that he likes the room for error in those phrases. But, he thinks as Fraser pulls him closer, rearranging their bodies so that he's spooned up behind Ray, Fraser's right. There's no way - _no way_ \- that he could...he doesn't even think about it, it's so ridiculous.

He raises his head up to look at the fat little pervert, sitting happily on the windowsill, his dick pointing straight at Ray. The lights from outside glint off it, making it look like the thing has a gleam in its eye, and Ray's face twists into a scowl before he lays his head back down on the pillow.

But, just in case, Ray makes a mental note to stop at the pharmacy in the morning. Just in case.


End file.
